


The Morning After

by DestielTheShipOfDreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breakfast, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a Couple, Castiel is a Sap in Love, Fluff, I'm Bad At Titles, Insecure Dean, Kissing, M/M, Short & Sweet, Swearing, post casifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielTheShipOfDreams/pseuds/DestielTheShipOfDreams
Summary: Dean & Sam have gotten Cas back and Dean has finally admitted that he loves the angel. All should be well but the next morning, Dean wakes up to an empty space in the bed. Can things have really fallen apart before they've had a chance to begin?





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This works just fine as a standalone piece and feel free to read it as such, but I actually wrote it as a little sequel to my fic 'The Emotional Coming of Age of Dean Winchester', so also feel free to read that too/first :D Please R&R!

Dean’s eyes creaked open before his mind did, and for a moment he was confused by his bedroom ceiling, expecting to see the sculpted white plaster from his dream. He frowned, the knowledge that it had been a dream the only conscious thought making it through the sleepy fog of his brain. Why had he dreamed about the ‘green room’? It had been years since he’d even thought of that place. Vague memories swam at him out of the mist and Dean blinked, letting them wash over him.

 

The anger, the frustration, the resentment, the fear. He remembered feeling all of those things and more in that odd waiting room, pacing and glaring at the marble and the gilt and the fucking pretentious paintings. Angels were a whole new brand of asshole. At least, that was what he’d thought at the time, and he’d been mostly right. Dean passed a hand over his face, struggling to wake up. It really was weird that he’d dreamed about his time in that infuriating place. He’d pretty much forgotten all about it.

 

Wait, no, that wasn’t right. He’d been thinking about it the previous night, as he’d fallen asleep. Dean groaned and yawned, rubbing his knuckles against his eyes. Why’d he been thinking about the world’s fanciest prison cell, that bullshit white and gold room where Cas had rebelled for him-

 

Cas.

 

Dean sat upright in bed so fast that his head swam and he groaned again, running a hand through his slightly greasy hair. He’d been neglecting it lately, too worried about his angel friend to bother with keeping track of his showering schedule. But he didn’t need to worry any more, right? Cas was finally where he belonged, safe with him, hopefully never again having to doubt if he’d made the wrong choice in that stupid room all those years ago. Taking a deep breath, Dean turned his head to look at the space beside him in the bed, nerves and excitement fluttering in his stomach.

 

The space was empty.

 

*

 

Castiel woke up only a few hours after dropping into rare, exhausted sleep in Dean’s arms. His body, mind and grace were worn out completely from Lucifer’s dramatic exit. He hadn’t dreamed, as angels simply don’t do that. Their minds have no need of the process. His waking was instantaneous; one second he was totally unconscious, the next he was blinking his eyes open against Dean’s collarbone, inhaling deeply.

 

“Dean,” he whispered almost silently, his lips barely moving, the tiny sound suffused with wonder and disbelieving joy. For there he was, where he’d never thought he’d ever have the good fortune or the right to be: in Dean’s bed, pillowed against Dean’s chest and shoulder, with Dean’s arms draped slack around his waist, feeling Dean’s relaxed breathing warm in his hair. _Dean_. Castiel breathed in once again, screwing his eyes back closed with a rush of emotion.

 

When he finally managed to move on slightly from just processing how lucky he was that he’d been entirely wrong about Dean’s feelings for him, Castiel re-opened his eyes, smiling to himself. It was still before dawn; the angel could feel that, even if there were no windows to be sure of it. Dean would sleep for at least another hour and besides, Castiel wanted to allow him as much rest as possible. He’d looked so very tired the night before, despite the warmth in his smiles and touches as he’d led Castiel down the bunker stairs and into the kitchen for a cup of tea. It had only been an excuse for the three of them - Castiel, Dean and Sam - to sit together and feel reassured that they’d been reunited. However, it had taken all of five minutes for both humans to begin yawning, and to his own surprise Castiel had shared their sleepiness.

 

The angel’s smile broadened and he pressed his face into Dean’s chest for a moment, remembering the way Dean had flushed and grabbed his hand as they’d all risen from the table. The way Sam had beamed at them as he wished them goodnight and loped off to his own room. The way Dean had tugged Castiel into the hallway and then stopped, asking awkwardly if Castiel would mind sleeping in his bed. The way the human had sighed against eager lips as he was answered with a kiss.

 

Heaving a happy sigh of his own, Castiel carefully shifted back from Dean, catching his breath as the man’s arms resisted and then relaxed, slipping from around him. Dean mumbled in his sleep as Castiel sat up, twisting to gaze down upon his slumbering face. Leaning on one hand over the human, Castiel allowed himself to indulge in an old hobby and simply stared at Dean, examining every feature, counting every freckle, cataloguing every minute wrinkle and blemish, blessing it all fervently in his mind. He had to concentrate when he did this, since usually his focus was more adjusted to observing Dean’s soul. He had time, though, to fill his eyes with both to his heart’s content.

 

Castiel gazed at Dean for almost an hour, at some point letting Dean’s face slide out of focus and switching instead to re-learning the glow of the man’s soul. He knew Dean’s soul better and had loved it first, before he’d understood that he was even capable of such a thing. Dean twitched and muttered a few times in his sleep, heaving breathy sighs and grumbling low in his throat. His eyelids fluttered and undulated as he dreamed. Eventually, his stomach growled and Castiel blinked, thinking that Dean would be hungry when he awoke. Deciding that cooking breakfast would be the least he might do to repay his favourite human for saving him and somehow loving him, Castiel eased off of the bed, moving swiftly and silently across to the door. Casting one long look back at the peaceful man occupying the sheets, Castiel slipped out the room.

 

*

 

Dean swallowed, the butterflies in his stomach exploding into panic. Of course. Of fucking _course_ he couldn’t just have this one thing, this one thing he’d finally opened up to. Dean wasn’t sure if Cas had left because he was in some kind of trouble or pain, or because he’d decided that Dean wasn’t worth staying for, but both options made his throat tight. He’d thought that freeing Cas from Lucifer and bringing him home would be enough to fix this mess. But Dean had been stupid to believe that after how low he’d brought Castiel, how shitty he’d made him feel, the angel would actually want to be with him. He’d probably woken up, thought about it and realised that there was a whole world out there just full of better choices than Dean Winchester.

 

Scrambling out of bed still fully clothed from the previous day, Dean all but ran to the door, reminding himself to stay calm and find out what had happened. First thing was first: he’d search the bunker. Maybe Cas hadn’t left yet, if that really was what was going on. Dean swallowed down a lump in his throat, hoping despite himself that Cas was simply reading or something.

 

Stalking up the hallway, Dean curled and uncurled his fists, trying not to think about having Cas leave again. The angel loved him, he knew that, he’d known that for a lot longer than he’d admitted it to himself. But Cas had also spent years putting up with Dean’s shit, forgiving him over and over, battling through death and betrayal and destruction only to be ignored and abused and blamed repeatedly. Dean had had a lot of time to think about Cas lately and he’d ended up feeling totally disgusted at himself for doing such a crappy job of being ‘family’, as he’d so often claimed they were. Dean was well aware that his particular brand of love did more harm than good, so really it was selfish of him to now be trying to start some kind of relationship with Cas. If he was truly selfless, he’d let the guy go.

 

But Dean couldn’t. He’d never dealt well with losing Cas and now that he’d thrown his defences aside and admitted his true feelings, the idea of Cas doing the smart thing and leaving him made him feel a little insane. He strode into the library, green eyes wild and darting. He called Cas’s name, voice weak with fear. Nothing.

 

Breathing hard, Dean had a look around the empty war room and then hurried back towards the kitchen. His eyes were prickling and he didn’t care at all. His voice came out as almost a sob, harsh and trembling.

 

“ _Cas _...”__

__

*

 

Castiel frowned down at the eggs he’d cracked into the pan, watching them slowly turn opaque as they heated through and began to cook. He was wielding a spatula in one hand as if it were an angel blade, although he’d feel far more confident if that was the case. Sighing in annoyance at his lack of knowledge on cooking eggs correctly, Castiel reached out and poked sharply at one of the white and orange puddles in the pan. He accidentally hit the yolk and he muttered in dismay and irritation as it broke, spreading all over the white.

 

“No, egg,” he reprimanded pointlessly, before slumping in defeat. He’d just have to be patient. Cooking took time, he remembered that from his stint as a human when he’d occasionally tried making himself food. He was staring blankly at the kitchen wall when he heard Dean’s voice up the hallway, calling his name. He sounded upset.

 

Heart hammering in sudden worry, Castiel turned and moved towards the kitchen door, raising the spatula in readiness. Dean appeared there with wild eyes, which popped in shock when they saw the angel in the middle of the kitchen.

 

“Cas,” Dean breathed almost reverently, stepping forward with tense shoulders. His gaze swept Castiel up and down before he shut his eyes and ducked his head, inhaling deeply.

 

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel asked urgently, still clutching the spatula. Dean huffed a laugh and opened his eyes again, looking back up.

 

“Shit. Yeah, sorry, Cas. I’m fine. Just... I wondered where you were. You OK?”

 

Castiel relaxed, smiling slightly. “Yes, I’m fine too. I slept well.”

 

Dean broke into a soft grin. “That’s good. That’s really good. What are you doing?”

 

Castiel turned back to the eggs, sighing and throwing the spatula down with an air of mild despair. “I’m trying to make you breakfast, but I don’t know if I’m cooking these properly. There’s coffee in the pot over there. I think I got that right, at least.”

 

He heard Dean move over to the coffee pot. “You want a cup, Cas?”

 

The angel nodded, not looking up from the eggs, thinking about whether he should flip them or if Dean preferred a runny yolk. “Yes, alright. Thank you, Dean.”

 

“No problem,” Dean murmured, his soft voice bringing a smile to Castiel’s lips. “Two sugars, yeah?”

 

Cas twisted and stared at him in surprise. “That’s right. You remembered.”

 

Dean’s cheeks warmed and he grinned down at the sugar he was stirring into the second mug. “Yeah, well, you still have coffee now and then, it’s not hard to notice how you like it.”

 

He knocked back a few gulps of his own coffee before he picked up the mugs and carried them to the stovetop, placing them both on the counter. He was standing at Cas’s side, elbows almost touching. The angel watched him, lips upturned and eyes shining with the affection flooding him. Dean fidgeted and flushed under the adoring gaze. Unusually shy, he peered down at the eggs, leaning closer to examine them.

 

“Those look pretty much done, Cas.”

 

Dean glanced back up as he straightened, only to find that Cas hadn’t looked at the frying pan at all and was still staring at him, eyes still shining like he was all that was good in the world. Dean swallowed hard, this time unable to break eye contact. There was a long moment of stillness and silence before Cas’s eyes flickered away and he opened his mouth to reply.

 

He was prevented from doing so, however, by Dean’s mouth pressing to his with no warning.

 

*

 

Cas made a surprised noise, followed by a light moan which had Dean crowding him back against the counter beside the stove. Rough hands moved under the trenchcoat and Cas whimpered, hesitantly touching his fingers to Dean’s shoulders before giving in and snaking his arms around the man’s neck. Dean groaned into the kiss and his fingers scraped and bunched the sides of Cas’s shirt, partially untucking it from his slacks. He bunched his fists in the thin white material, tugging the angel hurriedly closer until there was no more room between their bodies, their lips slowing and tongues meeting. Cas, who’d been making breathy sounds of utter pleasure and running the fingers of one hand through Dean’s short hair, suddenly pulled away with a gasp and stared wide-eyed at the human in his arms.

 

“Eggs are burning,” he panted.

 

Dean had never cared less about food in his life, but Cas had after all been trying to make him breakfast, which was very sweet of him. Brushing his mouth across the angel’s forehead, Dean reluctantly stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. Cas dithered for a moment, staring at Dean with darkened eyes which made the human shiver, but then he blinked and ducked back to the stove. Turning off the heat, Cas stared down at the fried eggs, one of which still had an unbroken yolk and one of which was a fully solid, white and orange mess. He lifted it up with the spatula to see that the underside was extremely crispy. Dean chuckled as he put bread into the toaster.

 

“Hey, they look great. I’m starving, can’t wait to eat ‘em.”

 

Cas shot him a doubtful look. “I think I overcooked them.”

 

Dean shrugged as he grabbed a plate and cutlery. “Can’t go too wrong with fried eggs. If you’d been scrambling them, we might be in trouble.”

 

Nodding seriously, Cas transferred the eggs onto the plate that Dean was holding out. A moment later, the toast popped up and Dean buttered it swiftly before adding it to the dish. Carrying the plate and his coffee to the table, he sat down and watched Cas settle opposite him , sipping his own coffee and running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, eyeing the eggs with dissatisfaction. Dean felt suddenly, to his utter shock and embarrassment, as though he might actually cry with happiness. Blinking and swallowing, he tore his gaze away from the angel and took a deep, unsteady breath as he picked up his knife and fork.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright, Dean?” Cas asked quietly, leaning forward. Dean nodded without looking up, cutting off a square of toast and a matching square of egg and spearing them on his fork. Chewing the mouthful, he managed to regain enough control to meet Cas’s eyes, affection in his own.

 

“They don’t taste that bad,” he assured the angel after swallowing. Cas smiled briefly but raised his eyebrows as Dean grabbed the salt and pepper and applied both liberally to his meal.

 

“Hmm,” was his wry response, taking another sip of his coffee. “Well, maybe next time you won’t distract me and I won’t burn them.”

 

Dean grinned, feeling warmer and more confident by the second. This felt so natural. Him and Cas, coffee and breakfast in the morning, kissing and teasing and just _being_. Why did he ever resist this?

 

“Nah,” he smirked, lifting another forkful of food. “I probably will. Burned eggs are worth it.”


End file.
